Send a wire to Nick Gandi in Los Angeles. Tell him to find out everything he can about John J. Macreedy...Tell him I want to know fast. Don't get too nervous too fast, Hector...you're as jumpy as a stall horse...And while you wait I'll talk to him.

I was just wondering what all you people are worrying about...Not that I have the slightest idea...I hold no truck with silence. I've got nothing to hide...It's just that you worry about the stranger only if you look at him from a certain aspect. From my perspective, I look upon him with the innocence of a fresh-laid egg.

First, I sell 'em a piece of land. Do you think they farm it? They do not. They dig for gold. They rip off the topsoil of ten winding hills, then sprint in here all fog-heaved with excitement, lugging nuggets - big, bright, and shiny. Is it gold? It is not. Do they quit? They do not. Then they decide to farm, farm in a country so dry that you have to prime a man before he can spit. Before you can say 'Fat Sam,' they're stalled, stranded, and starving. They become weevil-brained and buttsprung. So - I bury 'em. But why bore you with my triumphs?

Four years ago, something terrible happened here. We did nothing about it. Nothing! The whole town fell into a sort of settled melancholy, and all the people in it closed their eyes, and held their tongues, and failed the test with a whimper. And now something terrible's going to happen again. And, in a way, we're lucky because we've been given a second chance.

Pete Wirth: [to Liz, on the phone] I might as well be dead. Yeah, I told him everything...I'm asking you because I need your help. You'd be saving two lives, Liz: Macreedy's and mine, if that means anything to you.

Coley Trimble: Well, if it's not Macreedy, the world's champion roadhog...You ought to be more careful, man - all that one-arm driving...It's a threat to life and limb...You could get yourself killed that way, nosin' all over the countryside.